His heavie head, devoide of careful carke,

Whose sences all were straight benumbd and starke. 185
He, backe returning by the yvorie dore,

Remounted up as light as chearefull larke,
And on his litle winges the dreame he bore

In hast unto his lord, where he him left afore.

Who all this while, with charmes and hidden artes,

190

Had made a lady of that other spright,

And framed of liquid ayre her tender partes,

So lively and so like in all mens sight

That weaker sence it could have ravisht quight:
The maker selfe, for all his wondrous witt,
Was nigh beguilèd with so goodly sight.
Her all in white he clad, and over it

195

Cast a black stole, most like to seeme for Una fit.

Now when that ydle dreame was to him brought,
Unto that elfin knight he bad him fly,

200

Where he slept soundly, void of evil thought,
And with false shewes abuse his fantasy,

In sort as he him schoolèd privily;

And that new creature, borne without her dew,
Full of the makers guyle, with usage sly

205

He taught to imitate that lady trew,

Whose semblance she did carrie under feigned hew.

1580-90.

1590.

CANTO III

Forsaken Truth long seekes her love,
And makes the Lyon mylde;

Marres Blind Devotions mart, and fals
In hand of leachour vylde.

Nought is there under heav'ns wide hollownesse
That moves more deare compassion of mind
Then beautie brought t' unworthie wretchednesse
Through envies snares or fortunes freakes unkind.
I, whether lately through her brightnes blynd,
Or through alleageance and fast fealty
Which I do owe unto all woman kynd,
Feele my hart perst with so great agony,
When such I see, that all for pitty I could dy.

5

And now it is empassioned so deepe

For fairest Unaes sake, of whom I sing,

That my frayle eies these lines with teares do steepe,
To thinke how she through guyleful handeling,
Though true as touch, though daughter of a king,
Though faire as ever living wight was fayre,
Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting,

Is from her knight divorced in despayre,

And her dew loves deryved to that vile witches shayre.

Yet she, most faithfull ladie, all this while
Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd,

Far from all peoples preace, as in exile,
In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd,

To seeke her knight; who, subtily betrayd
Through that late vision which th' enchaunter wrought,
Had her abandond. She, of nought affrayd,
Through woods and wastnes wide him daily sought;

Yet wished tydinges none of him unto her brought.

One day, nigh wearie of the yrkesome way,
From her unhastie beast she did alight,
And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay
In secrete shadow, far from all mens sight:
From her fayre head her fillet she undight,
And layd her stole aside. Her angels face
As the great eye of heaven shynèd bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place;
Did never mortall eye behold such heavenly grace.

It fortuned, out of the thickest wood

A ramping lyon rushèd suddeinly,

Hunting full greedy after salvage blood:
Soone as the royall virgin he did spy,
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,
To have attonce devourd her tender corse;

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30

35

40

But to the pray whenas he drew more ny,
His bloody rage aswagèd with remorse,

And, with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse.

45

In stead thereof he kist her wearie feet,

And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong,
As he her wrongèd innocence did weet.

Oh, how can beautie maister the most strong,
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!
Whose yielded pryde and proud submission,

50

Still dreading death, when she had markèd long,
Her hart gan melt in great compassion,

And drizling teares did shed for pure affection.

"The lyon, lord of everie beast in field,"

55

Quoth she, "his princely puissance doth abate,

And mightie proud to humble weake does yield,
Forgetfull of the hungry rage which late
Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate:
But he, my lyon and my noble lord,

60

How does he find in cruell hart to hate
Her that him loved, and ever most adord
As the god of my life? why hath he me abhord?"

Redounding teares did choke th' end of her plaint,
Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood;
And, sad to see her sorrow full constraint,
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood;
With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood.

65

At last, in close hart shutting up her payne,
Arose the virgin borne of heavenly brood,
And to her snowy palfrey got agayne,

70

To seeke her strayèd champion if she might attayne.

The lyon would not leave her desolate,

But with her went along, as a strong gard

Of her chast person, and a faythfull mate

75

Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard:

Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward;

By which she thought her wandring knight shold pas,
Yet never shew of living wight espyde;

Till that at length she found the troden gras,

85

In which the tract of peoples footing was,

Under the steepe foot of a mountaine hore;
The same she followes, till at last she has
A damzell spyde, slow footing her before,
That on her shoulders sad a pot of water bore.

To whom approching, she to her gan call,
To weet if dwelling place were nigh at hand,
But the rude wench her answerd nought at all;
She could not heare, nor speake, nor understand:
Till, seeing by her side the lyon stand,

With suddeine feare her pitcher downe she threw,
And fled away; for never in that land
Face of fayre lady she before did vew,

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95

And that dredd lyons looke her cast in deadly hew.

100

Full fast she fled, ne ever lookt behynd,
As if her life upon the wager lay;
And home she came, whereas her mother blynd
Sate in eternall night: nought could she say,
But, suddeine catching hold, did her dismay
With quaking hands and other signes of feare;
Who, full of ghastly fright and cold affray,
Gan shut the dore. By this arrived there
Dame Una, weary dame, and entrance did requere.

105

Which when none yielded, her unruly page
With his rude clawes the wicket open rent,

And let her in; where, of his cruell rage

Nigh dead with feare and faint astonishment,

Shee found them both in darkesome corner pent,

Where that old woman day and night did pray
Upon her beads, devoutly penitent:

115

Nine hundred Pater-nosters every day,

And thrise nine hundred Aves, she was wont to say.

And to augment her paine full penaunce more,
Thrise every weeke in ashes shee did sitt,

And next her wrinkled skin rough sackecloth wore,
And thrise three times did fast from any bitt;
But now for feare her beads she did forgett.
Whose needelesse dread for to remove away,
Faire Una framèd words and count'naunce fitt;

120

Which hardly doen, at length she gan them pray That in their cotage small that night she rest her may.

The day is spent, and commeth drowsie night,
When every creature shrowded is in sleepe;
Sad Una downe her laies in wearie plight,
And at her feete the lyon watch doth keepe.

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In stead of rest, she does lament and weepe

For the late losse of her deare lovèd knight,

And sighes and grones, and evermore does steepe
Her tender brest in bitter teares all night;

All night she thinks too long, and often lookes for light. 135

Now when Aldeboran was mounted hye
Above the shinie Cassiopeias Chaire,
And all in deadly sleepe did drownèd lie,
One knocked at the dore, and in would fare:
He knocked fast, and often curst and sware,
That ready entraunce was not at his call,
For on his backe a heavy load he bare
Of nightly stelths and pillage severall,

Which he had got abroad by purchas criminall.

He was, to weete, a stout and sturdy thiefe,
Wont to robbe churches of their ornaments,
And poore mens boxes of their due reliefe,
Which given was to them for good intents;
The holy saints of their rich vestiments

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145

He did disrobe, when all men carelesse slept,
And spoild the priests of their habiliments;
Whiles none the holy things in safety kept,
Then he by conning sleights in at the window crept.

150

And all that he by right or wrong could find,
Unto this house he brought, and did bestow
Upon the daughter of this woman blind,
Abessa, daughter of Corceca slow, . . . .

155

And fed her fatt with feast of offerings,

And plenty, which in all the land did grow;
Ne spared he to give her gold and rings:

160

And now he to her brought part of his stolen things.